My parents have kidnapped my moped! I’m so….angry!

I went to work today as usual, and when it was time to come home, (I couldn’t drive my moped into work, it was raining) I called my parents. First off, they were driving MY car! They promised me they would NEVER use my car under any circumstances unless they had my permission when I obtained my level one license. It’s approaching two years that I’ve had it. They take it out a lot, and never ask me. That’s the first thing that bothers me.

They said we were buying another moped so “we could ride around together”. I was excited. We’d be a three-moped family! The thing is, why would my parents be buying two mopeds? They’re kinda pricey up here.

By we, they meant them. When we got home, they grabbed my keys and left. They left me standing in the driveway and yelled back to me: “Park the car in the garage will ya?!”

Dad roared my poor little Spike’s (my moped’s name is Spike) engine and ripped out of the driveway. I put my hands to my face in worry.

“Not so hard on him! You know he’s just as old as me! Be good to him! Slow down! Slow down!” I yelled after them. My dad increased the speed on Spike. I began to whimper.

When they got back, they proceed to tell me that I won’t be able to use my moped whenever I wanted anymore. They ‘have more rights over it’ than I do. Oh yeah?! Do I have a story for you!

kay, okay, okay, it seems like I’m glorifying Spike for more than he’s worth. He’s a trusty little machine though. I remember riding Spike with my Grandpa when I was younger than 3. Grandpa and I would go up the cherry orchards by his house and I’d sit on his shoulders, pluck cherries off the trees and put them into my sunhat. My hair was blonde and dresses were everyday apparel. My eyes were bright bluish-green.

My grandparents moved out into Leelanau County and took Spike with them (he was nameless at the time) when I was in 5th grade. A year later a mudslide swept their garage away. Spike was in there.

That year my eyes turned muddy brown and my hair became the ugly auburn color that it is today. It’s like my body knew that it was gone.

Grandpa was getting older and the new house he was living at had no space for Spike to ride. Grandpa worked day in and day out to get Spike back to normal again. At long last, Grandpa’s ‘baby’ was back to normal. Granted, he was very scratched up (Spike I mean), but he ran just like before.

Spring of 8th grade, I was very depressed. Grandpa felt terrible about the fact that Spike was sitting in his garage, completely useless to him anymore.

That spring of 8th grade…was when Spike obtained his name and I became his owner. Grandpa gave him to me so he could try to make me happy.

I tried lots of names for Spike. I called him Spud for a long time, because he had an Idaho license plate on it. ‘Spud’ I decided was too lame for his spunky personality.

How can a moped have a personality? The engine sound and how he accelerates and the fact that only Grandpa and I can start him on the first try. (He gives hell to everyone else. Don’t ask me why, but they can’t start him very easily.)

I think the name Euryale fits the new moped. In Greek mythology, she was a goddess of monsters.